


Winds in the East

by mixedwithintellect



Series: Harry Poppins [1]
Category: Don't Let Me Go - Harry Styles (Song), Kiwi - Harry Styles (Song), Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), One Direction (Band), Sweet Creature - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: F/M, Sort Of, harry but he's mary poppins, harry with children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 12:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixedwithintellect/pseuds/mixedwithintellect
Summary: Niall wants Y/N to take a break, Y/N is running on E, and Harry isn't floating down on an umbrella but he's practically perfect for the job





	Winds in the East

Ms. Floyd, Y/N’s boss, had her bra strap loose on her elbow. It was in the unfortunate in-between state, having slipped off her shoulder but not loose enough to capture the woman’s attention. And now, a nude strap was jiggling among the space around the woman’s freckled arm as she gestured wildly. It was all Y/N could focus on.

The woman’s expression made it seem as though she were close to crying, red and blotchy cheeks next to squinted eyes and a lined forehead – yet the meeting was a celebratory one, so Y/N knew it was just passion under a weird, confusing guise. Ms. Floyd’s brilliant smile gave it away, how proud she was of her employees. And they had done well, lately, hadn’t they?

Y/N stood near the back of the employee gathering, leaning against the check-in counter with her arms folded across her chest. She listened quietly to the long, winding speech about how employee comradery had the potential to change  _everything_  in the dingy hotel they were relentlessly striving to improve. A motivating speech, yet business was doing well enough, so Y/N couldn’t figure why they were being motivated to do better. Properly being pushed as if the hotel owner were a week away from filing for bankruptcy.

“You look exhausted,” Niall muttered next to Y/N, his eyes carefully trained on Floyd but his elbow purposefully bumping into hers.

Niall was Floyd’s favorite; she usually maintained eye contact with him for the duration of her speeches, as if that would stir within the young Irish man a desire to sweep her away from Cherry Lane Hotels and off into the rainbow. (That’s what Y/N said, anyway, which made Niall slap her arm and say something rude in Gaelic).

It hadn’t worked, but obviously nothing could deter Floyd’s motivation to keep trying. Niall never entertained her fancies but was pleasant enough to the woman, perhaps feeling a bit sorry for her.

“Miles couldn’t sleep, wanted to make waffles for everyone this morning. Stayed up with him to get the batter right,” Y/N muttered, rubbing her eyes lightly and letting her shoulders roll forward. Her blazer, a bit small in the back, squeezed against her shoulder blades and for the thousandth time in her life, Y/N wished she could sew.

It had been another exhausting start to the day, and despite Y/N’s best efforts to seem awake and alert for her kids, she could tell they were beginning to catch on. Patrick had brought home flowers the other day from the school playground (which Y/N knew she would get a call about soon, she could feel it in the air), and when Charlotte accidentally made Elise cry (which, yes, Y/N had a sixth sense for and could hear across the house), Miles had quickly intervened to solve the situation before it was officially brought to Y/N’s attention.

Not that her kids weren’t well-behaved to begin with, but Y/N could sense they were trying to make the days easier for her, in the small ways they could. It was both incredibly sweet and a bit heartbreaking. Y/N wanted them to see her as strong and invincible, a woman who couldn’t be brought down by anything. But all it had taken was one movie night with  _Finding Dory_  and she was a blubbering mess, clutching Trevor, Miles, and Charlotte as close to her as possible.

“Are you still working doubles?” Niall asked, bewildered. He had worked with Y/N the previous night, until it was late and Y/N was wracked with guilt over having Mrs. Johnson’s teenage daughter babysit for two hours longer than expected. The extra bills had made their way to the babysitter’s purse, so Y/N supposed all was fair in the world – but the young girl couldn’t be expected to deal with Y/N’s over-time for much longer.

“Yeah, til I get that pay raise.”

Niall fell quiet for a few moments, opening his mouth and tilting his head to the side, before closing it. Y/N knew what he was going to say, anyway, so she wasn’t too surprised when he gathered the nerve to ask.

“Have you given more thought to my offer, ‘bout my friend? He’s in town soon, could help out. Wouldn’t even ask for much, ‘specially if you could give him tha’ spare room.”

How Y/N even had a spare room to begin with befuddled Niall; he supposed it was an attempt of keeping order, of having a space dedicated to being a space. The kids usually used it as their headquarters during play-time, the console of a rocket ship or the battlefield of Princesses v. Gorillas. (In an odd turn of events, or at least to Niall, Charlotte was the main leader of the Gorillas and Patrick stepped up to defend the Princesses.)

Y/N wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. The words coming out of her mouth had been repeated to Niall so often, it had become more of second nature than an emotional response.

“Niall, I don’t even know the guy. Why should I trust him,  _alone_ , with my kids?”

“I’ll vouch for him, swear.” Niall’s voice had grown a bit louder from their hushed tones, and Floyd rapidly turned her attention back to the brunette man. Niall waited a few moments, flashing a toothy grin Floyd’s way, until she went back to her business of ranting about Cherry Lane’s competition. Damn those fancy 5-star hotel fuckers. Damn them, indeed, 3 stars was enough for anybody who had  _morals_ , for Christ’s sake.

He continued, more quietly.

“Plus, I know you’ve got Friday and Saturday off. He’s comin’ in Thursday, you could meet up ‘nd see what you think. Doesn’t hurt to try.”

Y/N mulled over the idea for the rest of the meeting, weighing the pros and cons. She truly was in need of another set of hands. Someone to help Miles find his special Wednesday khakis in the mess of laundry before leaving for school. Someone to keep Charlotte from lighting the house on fire. Someone to balance out Patrick’s massive ego, to stop Trevor from shoving Legos up his nose. Heck, having someone else around might even coax Elise out of her shell, more.

An adult would be ideal, one the kids could trust, and one  _she_  could trust. Going through an actual nanny service would make more sense, definitely offer more security, but it would be infinitely more expensive. Niall’s friend would most likely just need enough to get by on, especially if he didn’t have to worry about living expenses.

On the other hand, if Niall’s friend turned out to be a bad match with the kids, it would be more difficult to let him go than if the nanny were a stranger. Y/N knew Niall wouldn’t be upset with her, as he only wanted the best for the kids, as well. But it would be awkward, for sure. Especially since the town Y/N lived in was not all that large, and running into each other would be a common occurrence. 

Overall, it wasn’t a decision to take lightly. But it was the first time Y/N genuinely considered it, after weeks of Niall pestering her. Y/N considered that an improvement, anyway.

The two friends were making their way down the fifth floor together, checking in on various hotel rooms that had reported problems throughout the night. While fixing their third light bulb (the maintenance guy only came on Thursdays), Y/N found herself voicing her concerns to Niall. The latter was stood on a ladder, an appropriate word play, while Y/N held it steady below.

“Ah, Harry’s great with kids. He’s been a nanny before, I think,” Niall replied, before twisting the bulb in place. He removed his hands, giving the structure a brief look-over, before nodding at Y/N. She moved from her position near the ladder, to the light switch on the nearby wall. One flick, and the light came back on.

Niall cheered lowly, raising his hands in fists and grinning at Y/N.

“Fuck yes!”

“Ni, c’mon, language,” Y/N scolded him half-heartedly, knowing full-well she used to swear just as often as Niall did, if not more. But it was just the mom in her, these days.

Niall just laughed, stepping off the ladder. Turning back to Y/N, he adopted a more serious expression, his eyes flickering around the generic hotel decorations, before settling back on her. Dusty lamps and weird, unoffensive paintings could only be so interesting to look out before he had to focus.

“Listen, Y/N,” he began, letting out a sigh and closing up the ladder, “I  _really_  think you should take a chance on Haz. He’s...a bit out-there, yeah, but he’s got a great heart! Friendly fellow, promise. Wouldn’t’ve suggested him ‘less I felt one hundred percent tha’ he could take care of your family.”

Y/N listened carefully, her lips drawn together. She reached out, her fingertips grazing Niall’s wrist, before taking the ladder from him. Niall just sighed once more, collecting the rest of their supplies without another comment.

Deep down, she felt a familiar twinge in her gut. The twinge meant she was afraid.  It felt like half of being a single mom was being afraid, of not knowing what was going to happen, of fearing that her kids only had her to rely on – and the responsibility associated with that. Giving up power would lessen that pressure, but it also felt like adding on another burden of not being around her kids all the time to watch out for every danger. Trusting someone else wasn’t in her genetic code, not like that. Not with her kids.

Giving up control, handing over important decisions regarding her kids’ safety and well-being to a man she didn’t know, was probably one of the most terrifying ideas in the realm of possibilities, ever. 

Y/N hadn’t planned on having someone else by her side as she raised the kids. Fuck, she didn’t even plan on having five children. After going through the beginning stages of setting up her foster home, Y/N had to decide how many kids she wanted in her place. Originally, she had told the agency that two would be a good number. They set her up with siblings.

Patrick and Charlotte were the first two children she fostered. The twins were wary at first, having been through the system before and aware of the chance that they would only be with Y/N for a few months, max. They quickly warmed up to Y/N, though, especially after she spent a weekend with them living out of a blanket and pillow fort. Charlotte had worked on her science project with Y/N, them both tucked away in the kitchen going over hypotheses and different vinegar amounts in her volcano. Patrick had worked on his airplane model kit alongside them, interrupting their science experiment to show Y/N his improvements along the way. It was one of Y/N’s happiest moments, because it was then she realized she wanted them in her life, forever.

Elise and Miles were next, and they were only supposed to be in her home for a few months. But one thing led to another, and they had been with her a year, each. 

And then, one of Y/N’s friends at the foster center (they had grown closer over the past few years, especially with Y/N’s stellar evaluations) contacted her about a small boy who was having trouble matching with a home. Trevor, the most precious child in the universe, immediately burrowed his head into Y/N’s neck the first time they met. It was love at first sight, and while Y/N adored each of her children with all her soul, Trevor was an absolute treasure.

Things had gone well for the most part, and Y/N considered her home to be a proper family. The money from the state, plus her paychecks, had meant the children were always well dressed, fed, and had the proper resources for their schoolwork. Y/N was willing to sacrifice anything to make sure things stayed that way, which had led to her being overworked and exhausted. Plus, she was trying to fill out the adoption paperwork during the in-between hours of work and them waking up, which added to her stress.

So, she supposed, Niall was right. She wouldn’t last much longer on the path she was on. Each day was feeling longer, yet lacking in meaningful productivity. She needed rest.

* * *

 

It was when they were on their lunch break, Y/N’s PB&J sitting next to Niall’s leftover roast, that she mentioned it again.

“Would you...” she trailed off, feeling the twinge in her chest strengthening its grip. She would have to ask, simply meeting the guy wouldn’t do any harm. Niall simply looked at her, fork up to his mouth, waiting for her to get a move on and just continue.

“Would you ask your friend...if he wouldn’t mind coming over later this week?”

Niall’s face broke out in a huge grin, and he nodded, waving her off with his fork.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll let him know tonight.” His eyes lingered on Y/N for a brief moment, relief welling in his gaze. He was truly worried about her, as much as he tried to hide it. Harry would pull through, Niall felt sure. Plus, all the talks he had with his friend about how to properly approach the situation would help. Nanny Training, he called it. Was more fun when they were both wildly drunk, trying to put a diaper on an eggplant (despite none of the kids needing diapers anymore, Niall thought it would be funny to try) but Niall felt pretty sure Harry wouldn’t  _actually_  be drunk on the job.

“This  _doesn’t_  mean he’s hired, Ni,” Y/N stressed, more to herself than her friend. “I appreciate you helpin’ me out, but I’ve gotta be one hundred and ninety percent sure that this guy’s gonna be a good fit.”

“He will, he will,” Niall waved her off, kicking his feet up on an empty chair. “You’re gonna love him, promise.”

* * *

 

The house was quiet. Ghosts had invaded once the kids left, it seemed, putting the property under a silent siege and swarming into the rooms through window cracks and vent slits. A sense of the living, without the actual bodies to prove it. Laughter seemed to echo against the paneling, bouncing off family photographs and colliding into the noiseless corridors. Yet, no one was in the house – except for Y/N – to make the sounds.

She sat in the living room, feet propped on the coffee table, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. The silence was foreign to her nowadays, although not entirely unwelcome. Simply different. It settled under her bones, like it was screaming out, like something was itching in her mind. She had become more accustomed to chaos as of late, especially since her home had become the new Cool House to go to after school, for her kids and all their friends.

With a smirk, she took a drink from her cup. Melanie Peterson from her elementary school could go choke on a dick, Y/N was the cool kid now. Cool mom, technically, but that’s just a detail in the overall story of Y/N being the Better Fucking Person. Y/N nodded to herself, a devilish smile growing. Melanie could  _definitely_  choke.

The kids were over at Ms. Elliot’s for the afternoon, as Y/N wanted to meet with Harry to judge him (severely) as a person before letting him near her kids. Mrs. Elliot had three children who were close to Y/N’s kids ages; the two moms had assumed their kids would get along just for that reason alone, a few months ago.

That’s not the way it always went, since Elliot’s eldest, Andrea, had some ego complex Y/N wished her mother would sort out already. But it worked, when either one of the single moms was in a pinch and needed a quick babysitter.

Harry Styles, Niall’s English friend, was supposed to arrive soon. It was early in the afternoon, the sun warming up the grass outside and causing Trevor to have demanded lemonade earlier in the day. It had spurred Spencer to try and make some for his youngest brother, which, in turn, meant Y/N cleaned up after her eldest and made it properly. The pitcher was in the fridge, waiting for the moment the kids would burst through the door in an hour, elevating the atmosphere of the home to its standard chaos.

Y/N picked her feet off of the table and instead tucked them underneath herself, sitting more cross-legged on the blue couch fabric. Her flats were well worn, the black covering peeling off towards the bottom, which reminded her that she would need a new pair soon. The hotel typically had a standard dress code, which was barely carried out and no one would bat an eye if Y/N wore her  _tan_  flats. But if Floyd were there, it could become a Thing on her record, so Y/N found it easier to just play along.

Elise also needed new shoes because her Velcro play shoes were more like pieces of shoe, barely holding together. Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead and taking another large gulp of peppermint tea. Elise needed the shoes more than Y/N needed flats, and Y/N could always hide if she saw Floyd coming, tan flats be damned.

Letting her gaze drift over to the clock on the mantel, Y/N wondered if Harry was going to end up being her official lifesaver, if it all worked out. She needed a promotion badly, and knew the time for reassigning pay and management positions was coming up in a few weeks. So long as she could make it til then, things could settle down.

The doorbell rang, crisp and clear.

Y/N’s head shot up, a bit startled and out of her sorts, before remembering  _why_  the house was so quiet to begin with.

Crossing the living room, Y/N held onto her tea as she made her way to the front door. With each step, nervous shot through her veins, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. She wasn’t the one being interviewed, after all, and she was in the safety of her own house.

Without bothering to look through the side windows, Y/N opened the door, taking a deep breath.

The first impression Y/N had of Harry was how lanky he was, that his actual body was fairly tall and his hair sprung out in various and wild directions, giving him a sense of added height. Harry was smiling broadly at Y/N, his eyes crinkling slightly in the afternoon glow.

“Hi!” he greeted her cheerfully enough, sticking out a hand

“I‘m Harry Styles, are yeh Mrs. Y/N?”

Y/N barely took notice of the multitude of rings cluttered against his knuckles, only registering the cold metal when it met her palm. He had a firm handshake, made quality eye contact, and had good posture. Seemed not too much like a hooligan, Y/N reckoned, realizing she had sort of expected a ruffian who used her porch as an ash tray before farting on her couch. 

Or something like that, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was expecting.

“That’d be me, without the ‘Mrs.’. C’mon in,” Y/N shook his hand, stepping to the side of the doorway. He paused, however, gesturing for her to go in first. His smile hadn’t faded, not for a second, as if he seemed overwhelmingly pleased to be standing at Y/N’s doorstep.

She prayed to  _God_ , or whatever feminine goddess was in charge of the universe in the 21st century, he wasn’t a psychopath.

From speaking to Niall more about it, it was apparent that Harry had been shacking up at Ni’s apartment, specifically in his bathtub. The Irish lad had managed to get a nice location in town, closer to the hotel than Y/N was, but it had 3 bathrooms and 1 bedroom. So, never deterred, Niall created a makeshift bedroom out of one of the bathrooms, putting a mattress in the bathtub and disconnecting the shower system so it wouldn’t suddenly spray his guests in the middle of the night.

Yet, with how freaking  _tall_  Harry was, Y/N couldn’t imagine him fitting comfortably in Niall’s bathtub, much less the twin-sized cot she had set up in the spare. He’d have to make do, she figured, because either situation would be shit.

“So, this is home,” Y/N waved around the entrance hall, noticing that Harry had stopped behind, peering closely at one of the family photographs hung up. It had been taken a few weeks ago, by one of Y/N’s friends who was ‘trying to make it’ as a photographer. 

Patrick and Charlotte were on the edges of the park bench, Miles clammering above Patrick’s shoulders. Elise had a book open on her lap in-between the twins, which was fairly standard, and Trevor was sitting on the ground, plopped on some leaves, eyes directly on Elise. Y/N had been behind the camera, attempting to keep the kids focused, but massively failing. It had been alright, though, because it had been loads of fun. And the kids felt special for the day, as Y/N had dragged out her makeup and let them try stuff on.

“These them?” he asked, pointing at the frame.

Y/N made a face at him and before she could stop herself, she heard a voice saying, “No, I like putting pictures of random kids up on my wall. Makes trying to remember what mine look like more exciting.”

Harry froze for a second, before giggling and shaking his head.

“Fair ‘nough, love. Beautiful kids, though, shame I wouldn’t be nannying them.”

That snapped Y/N back into an interview mode, sure enough, as she sniffed and replied, “Well, we’ve gotta see if you’re a good match here, before you can be nannying anyone.”

He nodded thoughtfully and followed her the rest of the way back into the living room, only casting a few curious glances down the hallways, and up the stairs. They both took a seat, Harry on the couch and Y/N on a chair across from him.

Harry was nervous. Beyond nervous, really, because Niall had been explicitly clear about how much this job would mean. How much it would take for Harry to convince Y/N that he  _was not_ a pervert and could be a wonderful babysitter.

Harry had worked as a nanny before, but it was only once or twice - and for a few weeks at a time. He had done a lovely job, he’d say, because the kids were alive at the end, yeah? Granted, they were 16 years old and were functional in the majority of their daily lives, but regardless. Hadn’t let them get in their parents’ liquor (except for that one time) and no one had done any drugs. Pret-ty successful.

The families had still been more than happy for Harry to list them as references for this job, but he wasn’t sure if his experience alone would be convincing. To say he was an expert would be an outright lie, despite him knowing CPR and not to let kids run around with matches (keen instinct, that Styles).

Y/N picked up a yellow notepad from the table, clicking a pen, and glancing over at Harry. He was sitting forward on the couch, with his elbows on his knees and his fingers clasped around a few sheets of papers. Wordlessly, he handed them over, cautiously watching Y/N scanning over his resume.

Harry straightened his back, trying to sit properly on the couch while Y/N’s attention was elsewhere. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she saw him cross his legs, un-cross, and re-cross with the  _other_  leg in her peripheral vision. His hands fastened around one another over his knee, his foot rolling in a circle as he waited. Harry looked like a guilty fifth grader in the principal’s office, nervously waiting for his parents to pick him up.

She seemed fairly pleased with the resume, he reckoned, but her face didn’t read a lot of emotion to Harry. He was getting a bit antsy but was resisting the urge to bounce his knee or look around the room too much, he didn’t want to come across as rude. Frankly, because of the lack of feedback Y/N was offering, Harry was too scared to do much of anything, less it ruin his chances for the job.

Him ‘applying’ for the job was a mix of really wanting a better place to live, needing a bit more in his bank account, and not wanting to let Niall down. His recommendation seemed to go a long way, in the town, and Harry wanted to live up to whatever expectations had come from them.

“Are you open to caring for more children, if they have friends over?” Y/N’s pen was ready, poised at the top of the notepad, her eyes steady on Harry.

He blinked, a bit startled, before stammering onward. “Uh, yeah, o’ course. I think,” his eyebrows came together in thought, “I would ask yeh to tell the parents I was there, they’d probably wanna meet me first. If I’m takin’ care of their kids ‘nd all.”

Y/N didn’t write down his answer, just scrawled the words ‘ _kiss-ass_ ’ at the top of the pad. Niall had most likely coached his friend about what responses Y/N would want, to try and up his chances. It was a good answer, she reckoned, and it was definitely something she would do if he were hired. But, still. Her stubbornness was winning out a bit, her reluctance to let Harry into her home.

“You have another job right now?” she was looking over his resume again, spotting that he listed he was currently working as a Producer at  _Mitch’s Studio_.

“I’m helping my friend get his music going. ‘T’s why I moved here, to begin with,” Harry explained, and Y/N was beginning to see through the cracks of professionalism. This was who Harry was, what he was passionate about. She let loose some, as a consequence, her shoulders relaxing, and her head tilting to the side.

“If I get this job, I would only need to drop by his studio...once a week? Figure I could do tha’ on a day off, or bring the kids by?” He paused, gauging Y/N’s reaction, before launching into a defense due to her lack of response.

“It’s super safe, no drugs or drinking, or  _anything_. Just Mitch and his girl, but they don’t really do much. Not into PDA, don’t think. And the music is clean, no swears.” Harry was still looking at Y/N, hands splayed out, as if gesturing directly to her how ‘nothing’ there was in the studio.

“I’d need to meet Mitch...” Y/N trailed off, nodding vaguely. As the interview was progressing, she admittedly did feel bad that she was coming off as a hard-ass. His resume was impressive, he had done well at university and he had  _some_  experience. Y/N felt pretty sure that five kids under 10 years would be a lot different from two teenagers, but she was already expecting that a period of transition would happen, regardless if Harry was a kid expert.

Truth was, Niall wouldn’t be friends with anyone who was  _too_  reckless – and if they were, Niall would never let them within a 10 mile radius of his lovely nephews and nieces (they called him Uncle Ni, so he figured he was “their fuckin’ uncle, Y/N, so they’re my nieces and nephews, alright? Now tell ‘em the saltine crackers were super expensive, hard to come by or somethin’. Want them impressed by their Uncle Ni.”).

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to grip too hard on the roots. He had just gotten it to calm down a bit, out in his car before he walked up the steps to the front porch. Nerves didn’t suit him, his posture was fixed as if his mom were sitting behind him. It reeked of being unnatural, so he attempted to slouch a bit. But then Y/N glanced over at him, and nerves shot up his spine, forcing him to sit upright again.

Y/N noticed his change of posture and chuckled a bit, shaking her head.

“Think I’ve got the mom effect or somethin’,” she smiled at him, hoping it was more apologetic and not sinister.

“Ya do,” Harry laughed, finally letting go of the tension in his shoulders.

“So, Harry,” and Y/N crossed her legs, now, setting the notepad and papers down. “Why do you want this job?”

Harry’s eyes grazed the carpet’s designs and edges as he put together his thoughts.

“Well, I’m not gonna lie, I could use the cash. And the living space, a bed would be nice-” Y/N grinned at that, remembering herself how uncomfy the tub was - “and Ni talks about your kids a lot, yeah? I’ve heard great things ‘bout them, about yeh.” He gestured upward, eyes meeting hers. The air had lessened in intensity, the words were spoken more on the grounds of conversation than interrogation. Harry could work with that, he could feel more at home.

“And, while Niall’s said really great things, he’s also mentioned that yeh’re runnin’ on empty. Which is understandable, you’ve got five kids and a job, and Floyd’s ‘pparently a bitch about promotions-” Y/N’s eyebrows rose with the cuss word, and Harry’s eyes widened, but he continued nonetheless “-and I would like to help out, if I can. I know the basics, and don’t mind learning the rest along the way. YouTube’s a good source these days.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself; Harry was a nice man and seemed incredibly genuine, but her tongue wasn’t able to bite back quick remarks.

“You’re planning on using YouTube to raise my children?” One eyebrow rose, her lips pursed together.

Harry shook his head, grinning easily at Y/N. 

“No offense, ma’am, but what did you use, at the beginnin’?”

Y/N’s nose quivered a tiny bit, as she struggled not to laugh, knowing full-well that she had spent hours searching up how to solve various issues from YouTube. Fuck the books, the brochures, the movies – YouTube was free, thank you very much.

“Good point. Just different, when it’s someone else with your kids, yeah?” and her tone was softer, just a tad, and Harry’s heart melted a bit. It was clear she loved her kids, or else she would’ve just hired anyone off the streets without a second thought. Plus, with her opening up a bit, he felt more confident in his chances for the job. Although, he was fairly sure he was the only ‘applicant’ being considered, and Y/N’s eyebags were pretty deep. Not that he would  _say_  anything, his mother having raised him better than that, but exhaustion was practically painted onto her eyelids. She needed rest.

They sat there for a few moments, in comfortable silence. It didn’t seem so loud, when someone else was in the house. Even if they weren’t a screaming child.

Harry felt comfortable enough, now, to look around the living room – at the stone fireplace, the children’s art-work pinned randomly over the walls. At the variety of colored push-pins against the doorframe, which presumably was a tracking system for the kids to measure their height. A stack of children’s books lay next to the pile of blankets in the corner, a few books scattered open against the hoard of pillows.

“Well, Mr. Styles...” Harry turned his attention back to the woman, giving her a nod. She was rifling through the papers once more, checking some things, before grinning at him.

“Harry. Just Harry, ‘s fine,” he nodded sharply, rising to his feet as Y/N did the same.

“Harry,” she smiled pleasantly, holding out her hand again. He looked at it hesitatingly, a bit unsure what was happening, until she spoke again.

“Of course, we’ll have to see how the kids like you...but you’ve got a yes from me.”

Harry shook her hand, giggling. “Is this X-Factor or somethin’?” he teased.

“What?” Y/N tilted her head, confused.

“Nothin’,” his smile broadened as he shook his head. “Just a stupid TV show.”

“Oh, that reminds me. No television for more than an hour a day, and they aren’t allowed to spread out this hour over five hours, okay?” Y/N prattled off, continuing down her random list of concerns and duties for Harry, before a mess of noise broke through her chatter. Which was most likely for the best, since Harry was patting his pockets to try and find something to write with, to remember.

“Mom! Charlotte pooped her pants!” Patrick was shrieking from the front door, as Charlotte howled with anger.

“Did not! It’s  _chocolate pudding_ , you nincompoop.”

“Mom! Charlotte said a bad word! Is she going to hell now? Mrs. Elliot said bad people go to he-” Patrick continued yelling, before Y/N rushed out of the living room, mumbling quick apologies to Harry as she left. 

Harry stood, alone, putting his hands in his jean pockets and chuckling to himself as he wondered, for the hundredth time that day, what the  _fuck_  he was doing.


End file.
